It’s done. The test is done. I didn’t like it, but HBF said that I was very, very brave (just close your eyes – close your eyes, hard – and clutch someone’s hand and think of a happy place, or any place without long scary needles) and that I didn’t hurt his hand at all when I squeezed it really, really hard. I only cried a little bit – just out of fear, really, which was unavoidable for me – and the attending OB was very kind, and by the time we were out of the amnio room my eyes were dry and I was able to focus on the pressing issue of whether HBF should fetch me cookies or a latte.

I’d like to say that the hard part is over, but it’s not. Now, I’m going to lay very, very still for a day or two and pray that I don’t fall into that percentage of women for whom the amnio does not end well. After that, the hardest part will be over, I think. Then all there is to do is wait for more answers. But whatever those answers are, so long as they involve a Sprout ending up in our arms, we’ll be fine with them, and will proceed in the only way that we know how, with love.